


Conditional

by GoodyearTheShippyCat



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ethos is a Good Friend, Hugs, I'm assuming it will be in a few pages anyway, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Mean Girl Phobos, Polyamorous Character, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18611182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodyearTheShippyCat/pseuds/GoodyearTheShippyCat
Summary: After Phobos is released from the brig, he finds comfort from an unexpected source.





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [Royal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal/gifts).



> Happy birthday to Royal! Here’s some fluffy angst (whoops, how’d that get in there?) just for you—and for Phobos, too, I guess. Poor bby has had a tough time in the comic recently. I hope this year’s birthday is the start of many good things for you, you lovely person <3

Walking back to his quarters, Phobos reflected on the fact that the sweet air of freedom smelled just as stale as anywhere else on the ship, really. What little of a good mood he had over no longer being confined to the brig was already fading.

Absolutely everything had gone wrong on him. Abel had disappeared, nobody knew where to—the _Reliant_ hadn’t reappeared on the ship’s sensors like last time, apparently. His brilliant plan hadn’t accomplished anything… unless you counted getting him locked up. Deimos had been released almost immediately, the sneaky bastard. But he’d been left alone to rot in his cell for a few days until—by some unexplainable whim of Cook’s, most likely—he’d been let out conditionally.

Porthos hadn’t even come to see him at his scheduled release time like he’d promised.

His stride back through the halls of the barracks level was full of suppressed rage and misery. Feet pounding against the metal flooring with each step, sending reverberations buzzing up his legs. He desperately hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone, especially any other navigators. Turning the corner into his hallway, he could have sworn a blue streak—there was a figure in a white uniform coming the other way down it. He kept his gaze on the ground and sped his pace, trying to reach his door without having to acknowledge the other person. He really hoped it wasn’t anyone who knew him well enough to bother saying anything.

“Phobos! Hey!”

 _Fuuuuuuuuck, why me?_ he thought before lifting his head to look at the other man, who was smiling pleasantly, face framed by messy curls standing out in high relief under the harsh overhead lights.

“What are _you_ doing here, Ethos? Why don’t you just leave me alone.”

“Well, uh,” the shorter navigator looked a little dismayed, but continued talking anyway, “I… I knew you were getting out today. I, um, figured I would come visit you.”

Phobos sighed a long-suffering sigh. All he’d wanted was to throw himself down on his bunk and sulk. _Is that so much to ask?_

“Umm, you seem a little, uh, upset,” said Ethos, but before he could continue Phobos cut him off.

“Goodness, what could have given you that impression?”

“Oh…would you, uh, like some company? I– I mean, only if you want.”

Looking back at the puppy-like eyes staring up at him so earnestly, Phobos had to supress another sigh.

“Fine. Knock yourself out,” he said, resigned, as he typed his code into the panel next to the door. It slid open and he walked in, Ethos following behind.

“Oh! And Deimos is stuck on cleaning duty as part of his, uh, punishment... Otherwise he’d have been here, too!”

“Uh huh, I’m _sure_ he would,” said Phobos, looking around the room to see if anything had changed. It looked much the same as he remembered leaving it.

“He’ll come join us as soon as his shift is over, I’m sure,” Ethos insisted.

“Oh boy. I’m so excited for the scintillating addition to our conversation,” said Phobos, “A fighter who never talks and has been up to his elbows in grime, or worse, ugh… in the nastiest corners of the ship all day. So glad _that’s_ what I had to look forward to after getting temporarily released from jail.”

Phobos kicked off his boots and plunked himself down on the edge of the lower bunk, stretching his legs out in front of him on the floor and gesturing for the other navigator to take the space next to him.

“Ahhhhh,” he sighed, wiggling his toes in his socks, freed from the prison of his boots for the first time in days, “So much more comfortable! I might even manage to get a decent night of sleep now.”

“Are the beds in the brig really that much worse?” asked Ethos, carefully sitting on the thin mattress as well, leaving a bit of distance between them.

“I don’t even think _this_ sad excuse for a surface to lie on is worthy of the term ‘bed’. I’m fairly certain what they’ve got in the cells down there would qualify as inhumane conditions in more enlightened sectors of society.”

Ethos let out a shocked laugh, putting a hand over his mouth, “Well, I’m glad you’re out of there, then. That sounds awful! Was the food worse than in the mess hall?”

“You have no idea. Unflavoured protein paste. It was probably the nastiest thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, and that’s saying something.”

Ethos sort of laugh-choked at that. Phobos couldn’t help but feel a little bit pleased with himself; a bright point shining through the fog of his bad mood.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Ethos?” he asked bluntly, tilting his head to stare at the other navigator, “I’ve never been nice to you before.”

“Uh... Well. You’ve never really been, um, mean to me, either?” replied Ethos, his next sentence tumbling out quickly, but so softly mumbled it was almost a challenge to decipher, “... oreverreallytalkedtomeatall.”

Phobos just looked at him, but Ethos’ eyes darted away, unable to meet his for more than a second or two.

“Pfft! I’ve talked with you plenty of times.”

“I– I mean outside of work.”

“Outside of work? Is there such a thing on this hell ship?” scoffed Phobos, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we live _in_ our workplace and spend pretty much every waking hour as indentured servants to the Alliance. Come on, Ethos, I thought you were smarter than this!”

That got Ethos to look at him again, surprised; his mouth open in a little “o”.

_If he didn’t look so dopey like that it would almost be cute._

But it didn’t last long, Ethos turning his head to look back down between his knees again. A slight blush was spreading over his round cheeks.

“Ha, I– I guess that’s true.”

“Guess? Excuse me? You know I’m completely, one-hundred percent right here.”

“Uh, I just meant... We’ve never really, um, talked about stuff that wasn’t, you know... analyses, or configurations, or ship repairs, or missions.”

“Well, we are now,” said Phobos matter-of-factly.

“I guess we are,” said Ethos as he looked up again, now with a big smile on his face to set off the remaining flush to his complexion.

 _Huh, how did I never notice he has a really nice smile?_ thought Phobos.

“So… um, what are you looking forward to doing now that you have free roam of the ship again?” asked Ethos, filling the awkward silence.

“I guess Porthos and I were going to—” Phobos cut himself off, pulling a one-eighty in his train of thought. It was his turn to look away abruptly now, as he tried to talk right past his misstep, “You know what I’m _not_ looking forward to? Surviving the gossip from the jealous, catty bitches who are probably looking to have a field day with the whole ‘treason’ thing. Or dealing with Deimos again, ugh. He’s so weird! At least you have a normal, boring fighter.”

“Oh, I guess so,” said Ethos, looking a little flustered, “But I think Deimos is nice, too. He’s just really quiet.”

Phobos didn’t respond, the quiet one in that room for maybe the first time ever. He stared at the opposite wall in all its hideous, dull concrete blankness. The silence stretched on so long that Ethos cleared his throat.

“Um… Phobos? Are you okay?”

It took another minute for him to respond.

“Porthos didn't even come to meet me when I got released,” said Phobos in such a small, strained voice he barely recognized it as his own. He bit his lower lip and clutched the fabric of his pants where his hands were resting on his knees.

 _Stop it!_ _You're being stupid!_ he internally chastised himself, _Crying in front of Ethos isn't going to do anything._

He felt a warm hand on his bicep, and tried not shudder into the first nice contact he’d had in days.

“I– I’m sure Porthos must have just been kept late by the acting Lead Navigator,” said Ethos, rubbing the hand he’d laid on Phobos’ arm in a comforting little motion, “I mean, um, we’re a little short-handed right now… still gotta get the _Sleipnir_ back out of enemy space safely.”

“Pfft, then why aren’t you there, too?”

“Oh! I already worked a double shift yesterday so I got off early this afternoon.”

Phobos let out a breath as slowly and calmly as he could. He dropped his arms to his sides, but Ethos’ hand didn’t leave the one it rested on. Instead it moved up to his shoulder and squeezed.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Porthos will come by to see you as soon as he can.”

That was all it took, apparently. Phobos let out a little shuddering sob, still trying to hold it back.

“O– oh! I’m sorry! Please don’t cry, Phobos!”

“Don’t worry?” he spat the words back at the other man, “I’m only allowed out because they want me to help with support duties. I’m still getting court-martialed the minute we’re back on the station again! Doesn’t matter whether Porthos visits me or not, I’m still fucking screwed!”

He could feel the tears tracking down his face as he practically shrieked the last sentence, all attempts at control abandoned. Ethos looked so startled at his pathetic display that he fully expected the curly-haired man to just start scrambling away. To leave him alone with his bitter, spiteful sorrow and self-pity.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Phobos felt the hand which had been snatched back during his outburst find his shoulder again, hesitating a second. When not rebuffed, it smoothed across his back to reach his other shoulder; the comforting weight of Ethos’ arm coming to rest behind his neck as the other man scooted closer so they were practically touching.

Which just made him cry harder, leaning into Ethos’ surprisingly broad shoulder, cheek resting on the grey fabric of his uniform jacket.

“Shhhh,” Ethos whispered, wrapping him up in a hug, “It’s going to be okay.”

Phobos was too upset and exhausted to argue. He just sobbed some more. After a moment, he felt a hand fall gently on the back of his head, then begin stroking his hair. It was soothing. After a little while he quieted, apart from some scattered sniffles.

He could have stopped leaning against Ethos. Could have sat up and started the process of pretending it had never happened, to save some of his dignity. But Phobos found he didn’t want to push him away and laugh it off. He wanted to stay there, listening to the hum of the ship, feeling Ethos’ chest rising and falling with slow, calm breaths.

“How do you know it’s going to be okay?” he asked once he figured he could trust his voice again. It still wavered a bit.

“Umm, well, I… I guess I don’t,” said Ethos, “But I promise to do whatever I can to help, okay?”

“Like what?” asked Phobos, hopeless misery surfacing again.

“Uh, I guess I was thinking, given what I know… maybe I could testify in defense of everyone who ended up getting charged with treason.”

“Seriously? That’s a stupid idea. You’re lucky that they didn’t include you already! They’re probably still debating accessory charges,” he said. Disbelief was what finally got him to sit back and look at Ethos, whose mouth was set in a determined line, eyes hard.

“Yeah, well, it’s… it’s unfair to you, and to Deimos, and Keeler and Encke. And Praxis... Oh! And Cain and Abel, whenever they find them!”

 _If they ever find them_ , thought Phobos, but he didn’t speak it aloud, choosing a different point to focus on.  

“Hmph, but unlike the rest of them, I actually stole classified documents from Cook’s private account. And it’s _personal_ for him…”

“You’re still a victim of the injustice that is spreading outwards from whatever shady dealings Cook and Bering were up to,” said Ethos, not budging, “And besides, you could make the argument that you were just exposing unethical tactics of control over subordinates.”

“How are you such a good person?” asked Phobos, staring at the man sitting beside him, “It’s _disgusting_ how upstanding and moral you are, you know?”

Ethos just giggled at that, eyes scrunching up and dimples showing.

“And you’re stupidly adorable, too. How is that combination of traits even possible in one human being? Pretty sure they don’t make mods for that.”

The blush from earlier returned to the other navigator’s cheeks, deeper than before. Ethos let out a few more giggles, though they sounded a bit more self-conscious.

Phobos couldn’t resist, he leaned over to kiss the other navigator. He knew he probably looked gross and puffy from crying, but couldn’t really bring himself to care. Ethos didn’t even seem to mind that he’d left a damp spot on his uniform.

 _Maybe he’ll let me leave another in a more fun way,_ thought Phobos as their lips worked against each other, soft and tentative.

“Oh…” breathed Ethos when their lips parted.

Their eyes locked in a non-verbal exchange. When Phobos leaned in again, Ethos met him halfway, more pressure behind the kiss. Phobos leaned one hand on the plane of Ethos’ chest, the other coming up to cup his jaw. He sighed into the other man’s mouth as he felt arms encircle him again. Then gasped slightly as they pulled him up against Ethos’ chest with more force than he’d expected.

 _Well hello,_ he thought, _More surprises you’ve been hiding in plain sight!_

Phobos dipped his tongue into the space between Ethos’ lips. He delicately traced their inner edges in between smaller kisses.

“Umm… uh, Phobos, is this…”

“What? Are you not enjoying it?” asked Phobos, ready to be offended.

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, I am. Um. I just… what about Porthos?”

Phobos shrugged.

“He can have a kiss, too, if he ever shows up.”

“Oh!”

Phobos took the exclamation as assent to pick up where he’d left off, capturing the end of the sound with his mouth. And capturing Ethos’ unruly hair with his hand, gripping the tousled strands to pull him closer. The other hand played over the side of a solid torso and broad back.

Ethos didn’t seem to have any objections, wrapping those deceptively strong arms around him again as they kissed more passionately. He pulled Phobos down, so they both sprawled backwards at an angle onto the mattress.

Phobos threw his leg over one of Ethos’ thighs, getting a little gasp out of him. He let it drape between the other navigator’s legs as he pressed even closer alongside him. It was then that a thought struck him and he reluctantly separated his tongue from the inside of Ethos’ mouth.

“That doesn’t go for Deimos, though,” he added while Ethos looked up at him quizzically, “If he shows up first, we’re sending him to wait in your room.”

“Okay,” responded Ethos, a little breathless.

Phobos just leaned back in to taste those irresistible, kiss-swollen lips again. He hummed against Ethos’ mouth, happy to forget what tomorrow might bring and lose himself to what he had here and now.

 

END


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